He Is A Warrior

He is a soldier.
He is a warrior.

He is a well oiled, finely tuned, highly trained machine, made to execute and conduct missions and operations that are beyond my comprehension, and beyond my control. He will see, and do, and endure things that I cannot imagine. He will pull the trigger. He will utter the order to have others killed. He will do what needs to be done in defense of his country. In defense of his family. In defense of his life. He will leave me and our children and our home to defend our nation.

I cannot pretend that his life, his chosen existence is harder or easier than mine, for I have chosen to live mine beside him. I will not promise to never again be angry or frustrated that I have to mop the floor for the third time in one day so that our baby doesn't pick up the dirt tracked in by his combat boots. Just so long as his boots rest beside my pretty silver sandals at the end of each day.

I will listen to what he has to say, and lay quietly beside him at night while he sleeps. I will listen as he snores his worries away. I will wake with the children so he can get that extra hour of sleep. I will hide my tears of worry and fear because I know they scare him too. I will be his rock, his support, his sounding board. I will give this warrior my heart and soul because sometimes he will need it. I will be here to welcome him with open arms, open ears, and an open heart upon his return.

I will love this soldier for all of my life.
He is my soldier.
He is my warrior.